The Red Queen
by Interstella
Summary: Sequel to Safe and Sound. Spoilers for s2e03. Post Reichenbach. Now that Sherlock is gone and Wonderland is hers, what will Alice do? John is having a hard time coping with his loss and someone is slowly dismantling Alice's web.
1. My Immortal

The Red Queen

AN/: This is a sequel to my earlier story. It's known under two names, "Safe and Sound" on and "Her Name is Alice" on AO3. I would recommend that you read that first.

This chapter is a little long winded. It had a lot of things that had to happen, so it may be a little boring. I'm hoping that you'll keep up with it, that you'll enjoy it, and that you wont kill me for the end...

This, the first chapter, is dedicated to Arty Diane. Thank you for your continued support! I hope you like it!

~ ~ My Immortal ~ ~

"It will be beneficial to you." Mycroft's words drifted over her, largely ignored. Her eyes focused on nothing, staring blankly into the nothingness before her. The clatter of the everyday customers of Speedy's was muffled, barely heard and completely ignored.

Sitting opposite her, her only remaining family member sighed softly. "Alice." It was perhaps, the most caring tone that she had ever heard from the man. Never during her childhood had he talked to her like this, not even when he'd rescued them from her father's clutches. Always he had been businesslike, even talking to his much younger sister.

He repeated her name, and her blue eyes flickered to his then away again. "Don't." She said quietly. The first word that she'd said to him after her heated outburst at the funeral. "Just... Don't Mycroft. Don't pretend to suddenly care. You never did before." Shaking her head, she stood.

"I thank you for your financial assistance thus-far, however henceforth I will be no longer requiring it. No. I do require it. I just don't want it." Hands resting on the table in front of her, she finally made eye contact with him. "Right now, I don't want to be around you. It's _your_ fault that Moriarty knew enough about Lock to be convincing. It's your fault that he managed to -to get Sherlock to look like he'd made a fool of everyone. It's _your_ fault. The only reason I'm even talking to you right now is that you are all that I have left. You are the only blood kin that I have. But you are not my brother. You have never been my brother."

"Alice-" The look on Mycroft's face was a mix between astonishment and anger.

"No. You've tried in your own way. I get that. But money isn't enough, Mycroft. You were never there for either of us." She shook her head and straightened up. "I'm angry. I'm angry at you, I'm angry at Lock. Just- just leave me alone. For a while at least." She turned then, not giving him enough time to reply as she stormed out into the grey day leaving her older brother sitting alone in a crowded diner.

~ ~ My Immortal ~ ~

The seventeen steps leading up to 221b had never seemed so daunting. In the very short distance between Speedy's and her front door, Alice had somehow managed to get completely soaked through. The steady beat of falling drops landing on the ground permeated the eerie quiet.

It wasn't the same now, it was too quiet. No gunshots, no exploding beakers, no startled or excited shouts. Now it was just the two of them things were far quieter. Taking a breath, Alice made her way slowly up the stairs, leaving small puddles of London rain water behind her.

The door slid open under her hand, silently swinging into the room. Following through, she saw John sat on the couch and smiled sheepishly at him. "I may need to move out soon." She told him as she peeled off her coat. Hanging it in the kitchen she looked mournfully at the clean room.

It had only once been that clean before- for her birthday all those months ago. The very next day it had been littered with mess of all kinds. Now, it was rarely anything other than clean.

"Why is that?" John asked, putting the paper down to watch as she removed her outer clothing, leaving her under layers on. Her long sleeved black shirt clung to her skin, resting over her dark trousers.

Dropping her saturated dress on the linoleum floor in the kitchen she sighed. "I sort of just kinda told Mycroft to take his money and shove it." She said as she wandered through the front room to the linen cupboard. A towel was pulled out and wrapped around her while she headed back into the living room. Sitting next to John and pointedly avoiding using the arm chairs, she vigorously rubbed her hair dry.

"Well, you can always move back upstairs." John said quietly, "Sherlock-" Alice politely ignored how John's breath hitched when he said her brother's name. Neither of them liked the reminder, "Sherlock always paid in advance. So his half of the rent is covered for another month yet." He swallowed thickly and forced a smile. "And I've picked up extra shifts at the clinic, so I'm sure we can sort something out for you."

Pausing in her movements, Alice stared at John for a moment before smiling. "Thank you." It was the first genuine smile that she had managed in a long time.

~ ~ My Immortal ~ ~

The downstairs unit was cold and dark. Alice felt at home there for the time being. Stepping over a beaker she let her eyes scan the room.

All of Sherlock's experiments lay exactly where he had left them. Only the ones that required immediate action had been touched -and those had been carried on rather than abandoned. She just couldn't bring herself to destroy the last part of her brother she had.

Sunset found her sitting in the centre of her living room, surrounded by half completed experiments, full beakers and scientific equipment. Curling in on herself, she pulled her knees to her chest and lay her forehead upon them, eyes still scanning the room. Eventually, she allowed the tears to fall.

~ ~ My Immortal ~ ~

The days passed in a haze like dream. Nothing really mattered and the small details that she would normally pay such close attention to simply drifted by. Soon, it was Saturday – One month exactly from the death of Sherlock Holmes.

Alice closed her black long coat over her maroon dress. Wrapping a red scarf around her neck she turned and smiled sadly at John. He was wearing his usual leather jacket and dark trousers, a forlorn look on his face.

Linking her arm in his, she lead him quietly down the stairs.

Their silence was broken only by the dictation to the cab driver to take them to the cemetery. Both absorbed in their own thoughts and taking a small comfort in each other's presence. Once they arrived, the once again linked arms and stepped up to the grave.

Neither of them really saw the point in bringing flowers, and they both knew that Sherlock wouldn't care either way. He hadn't exactly been a sentimental man.

Glancing to her right, Alice noticed John had his face in his hand. His shoulders were jerking lightly and his body shaking with silent sobs. Putting her arm around him, she pulled him closer, holding him while her own tears fell.

~ ~ My Immortal ~ ~

"Dear, there's somebody here to see you." Mrs. Hudson spoke as Alice stepped through the threshold of 221. She turned and smiled in thanks to her before stepping up into 221b. "Hello, Mycroft." She said without looking at him. Taking off her coat she hung it along with her scarf and kicked off her heels.

"To what do I owe this pleasure?" She asked sourly, noting that Mycroft was sat in Sherlock's arm chair. Sitting on the sofa she glowered at Mycroft.

Not taking his own eyes off his umbrella Mycroft spoke, his hands idly playing with the handle. "I refuse," He began, his quiet voice still as strong as ever. "to allow you to struggle for finances when I am more than capable of helping."

"I told you, Mycroft," Alice said, "I don't want your help."

"Regardless. I will not allow you the stress of struggling. I couldn't do anything else for you. I still can't." He lifted his eyes and looked at Alice. "Let me do this for you at least. Even if you wish to have nothing else to do with me. Allow me this."

It was then that she noticed. His eyes held something that she'd never seen in them before. Behind the grey was a dull pain, one that she was sure was mirrored in her own. His body was held a little too deliberately, his back a little too straight. His fingers still hadn't stopped toying with the umbrella in his possession and she finally understood.

All her life, she had been told that there was something different about Sherlock, that his mind was wired differently and that he couldn't form the same complex emotions that other, more normal people, could. Growing up, she had been told time and time again that her brother was wired wrong, that he _couldn't_ love. But she knew better. She knew that he loved in his own way- he'd loved her, he'd loved John, he'd even held an affection for Mycroft.

Herself growing up, she hadn't been able to make the emotional connections that she'd witnessed in her peers, and she'd simply believed that she was like Sherlock. Mycroft, however, had always seemed completely normal.

Now she realized that he wasn't. He'd loved his siblings and the fact that he hadn't been there to save them, that he hadn't realized for so very long, it killed him inside. But he'd had to stay at school for this very reason- so that he could support them throughout their adulthood. It was the only way he knew how to show his love for them.

And she was rejecting that.

Suddenly, Alice wasn't so angry any more. Mycroft had made a mistake-it wasn't something that he was known for, but she knew that it did happen. He'd made a mistake, and it had cost him his brother, and now, it was costing him his sister. He was struggling to adapt just as much as she was, and now she understood that.

Sighing and sagging a little, Alice looked away. "No." She said quietly, continuing before Mycroft could fully form an idea. "I'll let you take care of me, me and John both. But I want to make an effort to get to know you, Mycroft. You're the only brother that I have left-the only family. And I don't know a thing about you. Not the real you. So you and me, we're going to have weekly meetings. Lunch."

Grinning as she noticed the luck of utter astonishment, Alice nodded once and stood. "Tea?" She offered, knowing that now, things would be a little different.

Mycroft would be a wonderful resource for her Wonderland.

~ ~ My Immortal ~ ~

Some days were easier than others. Some days, Alice saw John smile, as fleeting and small as they were, they were comforting. Some days, he would talk with her, have a chat about the weather, or sometimes the topic was Mycroft's politics. Some days, John would join her when she went to the shops, or on a walk.

But most days were bad. Most days, John sat alone in the flat, staring at the wall. He would often be unresponsive, a silent figure in a darkened night. During the first few weeks, Alice had tried to cheer him up, talking to him, offering him tea, cleaning for him, but nothing had worked.

After the first few weeks, she had given up on that, knowing that it wouldn't do any good. All she could do on the bad days was sit in the corner, waiting for him to snap out of it. She made sure that there was always a cup of hot tea sitting ready for him when he came too.

He was seeing a therapist, Alice knew, but it didn't seem to be helping.

Then one day, several months after Sherlock's death, her computer beeped. The new email told her of an entry to his blog.

"_He was my best friend and I'll always believe in him." _

~ ~ My Immortal ~ ~

The office was newly decorated. An ironic shade of yellow was upon the walls, making the room seem like a brighter and happier place. Alice found it funny, considering that this was where she made all her decisions regarding Wonderland and the people that needed to die in order for it to continue running.

Today as she walked into the room, her heals clicking on the ground, she knew that something was wrong. Not showing it, she simply strode into her new office and looked up from the reports she was reading to regard the man in her chair. She was already in a bad mood- the reports telling her of her agent in France showing up dead in a ditch.

"The last person that sat there, didn't last very long." She warned him, taking him in.

His dark hair was cropped short, a typical military cut. The straight posture, the way he kept his arms close to himself while looking completely relaxed- yes. Definitely military. The scar across his nose was old, at least ten years and he didn't seem to have any newer scars. The age of the scar spoke of the length of time since he'd been in active service- at least ten years.

"Mister Moran." She greeted him with a nod, "You're in my chair."

~ ~ My Immortal ~ ~

AN/:

Sorry for the cliffhanger, but that seemed like the perfect place to finish things. This story is going to be more Alice centric than the other, since she's taken over Moriarty's web, now known as Wonderland.

I would absolutely LOVE to hear any feedback. I adore it and it drives me to write more. So please, do review. Especially if you want expedience on the next chapter.


	2. Everything Changes

The Red Queen

AN/:  
Just to let you know, I haven't actually read the original books. So if Moran is off, description or otherwise, let me know. All I know about him is from Tumblr. (If you want to find me, there is a link on my profile page. I welcome any and all new followers).

So half of this chapter was written in a moving car, with my eyes not on the screen. So any mistakes are almost certainly because of that. Sorry -.-

~ ~ Everything Changes ~ ~

"Mister Moran, you're in my seat."

The sniper regarded her coldly, staring at her with his impassive blue eyes. He said nothing as approached the desk. A soft sigh escaped her as she placed the files on the desk. "I see." she said, looking down at the man. She didn't take a seat, instead opted to simply stare at him.

"You're here to kill me." It wasn't a question, it didn't need to be. She knew all about Moriarty's people by now. His filing system had taken a day or two for her to decipher, but once she had, she realized that it made perfect sense. The next few days had seen her devouring the information that the man had left behind and finding more information where she could.

So she knew exactly what Moriarty and Moran had been. It made a sort of sense, for Moriarty to be sleeping with his second in command. It was the ultimate domination.

"Yes." Moran spoke clearly and concisely, a habit most likely picked up from his military service and never discarded.

A smile was upon her face, one that didn't reach her eyes. "Well. Unfortunately I can't allow that to happen. I quite like being alive, thank you very much." She kept the smile on her face as she slid into the chair across the desk, allowing him to feel like he had _some_ control over the situation.

"If you're here to extract your revenge for the death of your master, save it." She told him, "I have a proposition for you."

Moran leaned forward, resting his elbows on the desk and his hands clasped in front of him -always ready to act. He looked to her, his posture said that he was interested, however his eyes held a threat. Alice understood, he wanted to know what she had to say before he killed her.

Perfect.

"Moriarty is gone. He took something from me, and for that, he had to suffer. You understand." She knew that he would- Moriarty would have worked much the same and she had no doubt that that was the logic that lead to Moran being there, sat before her, ready to pounce.

Yet the look that she was receiving was one that told her he was now interested in what else she had to say.

"Now it won't have escaped your notice that I have taken over where Moriarty once stood. Wonderland is now under my direct control, and it will remain that way. I am, however, lacking a second in command. I will take Moriarty's place in every aspect. And that includes you, if you are still in need of a job."

"You can't trust me." the military man pointed out, leaning back in the seat, folding his arms across his chest -classic defensive position. Her eyes flickered to where his hand was resting just inside his jacket. A gun then.

"I don't trust anybody."

"What do you want from me?"

"What were you giving Moriarty?"

"Anything he wanted. Because I wanted to give it. What will you ask of me?" Will. Good. No longer in the hypothetical, now in the bartering. All she had to do was ask the right price.

"Assassinations mostly. Some reconnaissance. No paperwork. Sex if you want it." she didn't really care about the sex, but it was something that she actually needed him to agree to. If she could bed him, she could dominate him completely -use that to her advantage. "Your payment will be the same as it was, along with an increased bonus whenever a mission is successful."

Moran was listening, she knew that he was absorbing this information and making quick decisions. She could tell that he was contemplating how long it would take for her to let her guard down around him. She smiled at him as he thought. He wouldn't have the opportunity to kill her.

If he wasn't so useful, she would have had him killed already.

A single nod from Moran told her that she was one step closer to having everything go her way.

~ ~ Everything Changes ~ ~

Her elation didn't last long. While things in the office were going her way, things out in the field were not. After Moran left, she was handed two more files, both holding information on the deaths of two of her agents. One in Germany and one in the Netherlands.

"Damn it." It looked like someone was hunting her people down. And they were doing it quickly.

Throwing the files at her desk, she stood and left, heading to her lunch with Mycroft.

~ ~ Everything Changes ~ ~

Mycroft was waiting for her outside the café, his ever-present umbrella twirling lightly under his hand. He smiled at her and waved a hand at the door, gesturing for them to enter. They sat, and Mycroft looked at the menu as Alice made herself comfortable. She'd been here often enough to have a usual dish, which she ordered with a wave of her hand while Mycroft made his decision.

The silence that followed was awkward, neither person knowing exactly what to say.

So after a while, Mycroft talked about the only thing he really knew -work.

"I've begun an investigation." He told her, accepting his coffee from the young waitress with a nod. He waited until she was gone before continuing. "Into Richard Brook."

Those words caused her to pause, freeze briefly before looking up at Mycroft. This couldn't be good. "Why?" She asked, feigning actual curiosity.

"To clear Sherlock's name. I don't believe for a moment that he was a fraud. Do you?" Of course, Mycroft had met Moriarty before Richard Brook even existed. Of course he would want to clear his brother's name.

"No." Alice shook her head softly, "But what would that achieve?" She asked, "Sherlock's gone." She stared into his eyes at that point, as if willing him to tell her otherwise.

Mycroft regarded her for a moment, surprise flickering on his face as he thought her words though. "Sentiment I suppose. Still. I would like to prove to the world that my younger brother wasn't a liar."

Alice tilted her head to the side as she continued to stare at him, a bitter laugh escaping her. "You're worried that his reputation will damage yours. If his being a liar is to be linked to you, your career will be damaged."

"There's that, too." Mycroft took a sip of his drink and nodded.

Alice just rolled her eyes and changed the subject. She had to think things over, how this would play out and the damage control she could utilise.

If Mycroft was able to disprove Brook, then the police would most likely begin to look into Moriarty. Then it would only be a matter of time before they'd discover his web and begin investigations into Wonderland. And then, they would find Alice.

She needed to keep ahead of them.

~ ~ Everything Changes ~ ~

Twelve hours after her first meeting with Moran, she received a message. He was awaiting her orders.

The smile on her face only faded when she read the next report – yet another agent killed in action.

She knew what Moran's first mission would be.

~ ~ Everything Changes ~ ~

John was having another one of his bad days when Alice got home. Looking at him sadly, she moved into the kitchen and brewed a cup of tea for the man. Placing it gently in front of him, she reached forward and grasped his upper arms with his hands.

"Hey Butterfly," She said quietly, "Things are gonna get easier."

Pulling away, she went to sit in her usual position on John's arm chair, watching the man, waiting for him to wake up.

Less than an hour later there was a knock at the door. Alice left it for Mrs. Hudson to answer and stayed where she was, thumbing carefully through her copy of Alice in Wonderland. When Lestrade opened the door to the flat she glanced up and smiled softly. This was unexpected turn of events.

"Detective Inspector." She whispered. Even though she knew that it wouldn't really make a difference, whenever John had a 'bad day', she found herself unwilling to speak loudly.

Lestrade smiled and was about to reply when he looked at John. "Wha- is he okay?" he asked quietly, watching the man carefully as he slowly walked closer.

"He's just having a bad day." She told him sadly.

"Depression?" The tone which he used spoke of experience. Somebody close to him had suffered previously – perhaps the man himself. Alice had heard Sherlock talk of how Lestrade's marriage had failed, so the man wasn't a stranger to loss.

"Yeah. Ever since Lock... Well... It hit him hard." She smiled softly and shook her head.

"Oh. Sorry. I was just here to-"

"You don't need to make excuses." She told him, "You're worried about your friend. But he'll be okay. I'll make sure that he's okay. I'll give you a call when he's feeling better." She promised, to which Lestrade nodded and left.

~ ~ Everything Changes ~ ~

Alice helped Lestrade organise a get-together for the yarders, herself and John. She was in agreement with Greg when he told her that he thought that it would help John feel better. Maybe ever cheer him up and remind him that, even though Sherlock was gone, he still had friends and people that cared for him-that considered him a friend.

People that loved him.

Mrs. Hudson had declined an invitation to the bar, which nobody was surprised at.

Instead, the evening found John, Alice, Lestrade, Donovan and Anderson in a bar. At first, John hadn't said a word to either Anderson nor Donovan. Actually, he was pointedly ignoring them. It took half the night for him to even look at them, and when he did, he blew up.

"What the **hell**__do you think you're doing here!?" He screamed, standing and staring down at them, his hands on the table between them, "Do either of you think I want to so much as _see_ you right now? The moment, the _moment_ that there was ever a doubt towards Sherlock you pounced on it. I get it, you didn't like him, but how could you _ever_ think that he was a fraud!? That he would do _that_!?" He was shaking, trembling with the pent up anger and frustration. Tears of rage and grief fell from his eyes as he glared at the two of them.

"And then, you have the indecency to come near me and act like _nothing__ever__happened_!?" Standing quietly, Alice moved forward and gently placed her hand on John's shoulders, hoping to calm him down.

Half the patrons in the bar were openly staring at the small group, the other half were pointedly _not_ staring, which was often worse. "John," Alice said quietly, "Maybe we should go."

"He's right." The quiet admission took them all by surprise. Four pairs of eyes found themselves fixated on the youngest at the table. "He's right." Anderson repeated, looking directly at John. "We were stupid. We acted without really thinking things through. We were _idiots_." He used the word that Sherlock had used to describe him on so many occasions. "And because of our idiocy, a man is dead. A good man is dead."

His words, his tone, something about Anderson at that moment caused John's whole body to stagger and drop back into his chair. Leaning forward,he placed his elbows on the table and his head in his hands and let the tears fall. It didn't matter to him that he was in a room full of people, or that just seconds ago he had been nearly angry enough to seriously consider killing someone. No, what mattered to him was the fact that in those few words, Anderson had told him how much he missed the man too. How much Sherlock would me missed by everyone. The emotion that was in the man's voice, the fact that he called a man he despised a good man... It was all just a little too much for the poor doctor to absorb.

Alice put her arms around him as he sobbed quietly and Anderson stood, returning a minute later with napkins and another round.

It took him a while, but eventually, John opened up. They talked about Sherlock, about how infuriating he could be, about how absolutely brilliant and yet how utterly stupid he was. They remembered him. They mourned him.

And the healing began.

~ ~ Everything Changes ~ ~

The relationship between John and the yarders was strained at best, so when Alice approached Lestrade at the end of the evening, she didn't hold on to much hope. Yet she knew she had to do this, and she had a pretty good reason for Greg to agree.

"Greg." She smiled as she caught him before he could flag down a cab. The rain pelted down loudly, causing her to raise her voice a little higher than it normally went, so she gestured to the overhang outside the bar.

When they stood there, she smiled up at him. "I wanted to ask you something. A favour really..." Greg looked intrigued but allowed her to continue. "I think it'll be good for John-an me both- if we could still help you out from time to time. I know that John misses the adventure, and although my observation skills aren't the same as my brother's, I _can_ be of some help."

Frowning, Lestrade thought for a moment before sighing. "I can't simply allow you on site." He said eventually. "After the raucous Sherlock ended up causing..."

Right. Time for the puppy look. Widening her eyes a fraction, allowing them to tear up slightly, lowering her head just a little and biting her lower lip lightly she gazed at him.

He sighed again, and she had to fight the impulse to smirk. People were so damn easy to manipulate!

"I'll see what I can do. I might get you official 'consultant' status. But that does mean that you'll have to do your own paperwork."

"That's fine." Mycroft could do it. He was good at paperwork.

"We'll see then."

~ ~ Everything Changes ~ ~

AN/  
So what did you think? Too much? Not enough? Any idea who's taking out her men? XD  
I actually quite like Anderson in this chap. He wrote himself but I hope that he's believable. He's an idiot, true, but he's human. And he may be a mess but I think he really is a good person. Not good people don't usually go into forensics (minus of course Alice and Dexter...)  
Two chapters down and still no sign of Sherlock!

The song I used was "Everything Changes" by "Staind".


	3. A Return Indeed

The Red Queen

~ ~ A Return Indeed ~ ~

Another report. Another death. No sign of a culprit as of yet. Even considering where their relationship began, Alice found herself trusting Moran's word on the matter, she could trust him to be professional. If he was going to end her, he'd do it personally.

So when he sent back word that he was getting close to an answer, she found herself grinning.

Things were finally beginning to look up.

~ ~ A Return Indeed ~ ~

She was at home when she received the call. Sarah, was panicking on the phone, her medical expertise not quite preparing her for the reality that was John Watson on his 'bad days'. Reassuring the woman, Alice spoke quietly and calmly. "I'll be there soon." She told her, "Go make a cup of tea, and put it in front of him. Make sure that he isn't left alone in the room but that it's not crowded either. He'll need someone there when he wakes up."

Alice arrived at the clinic less than ten minutes later (thanks to Mycroft rerouteing most of the traffic). She quickly walked in and was led to John's office. There, she simply sat in the chair opposite him and gestured for Sarah to sit beside them. She knew that Sarah would easily understand what was happening when it was explained, and that she could possibly even help.

"You know he was diagnosed with PTSD when he came back from the war, right?" Sarah nodded, "Well this is kind of like that. It's known as "complex-post traumatic stress disorder". He doesn't have all the symptoms and it doesn't happen all the time. But sometimes, when it's a bad day, he gets like this. He's in a dissociative state. Right now, he doesn't know where he is, who he is or anything that's happened to him in long enough that his mind finds it easier to simply stop."

The clinical explanation was enough to calm Sarah down. She sat there listening, understanding. While psychology wasn't her area, she was intelligent enough for the explanation to put her at ease.

"How long do these sates last?" She asked quietly, matching the Alice's volume.

"It varies." She smiled softly at John, "He gets embarrassed about it. He doesn't like the fact that his day to day life is interrupted. It's been a few days since his last episode...I think he was hoping that it's over."

"What causes them?"

Alice simply shrugged. "There doesn't seem to be any specific triggers. It just...happens."

It took John a whole hour to snap out of his dissociation, and when he did, Alice was there to take him home. They never talked about it, not once. But John knew that Alice was there for him, and Alice knew how much that meant to John.

She may have lost Sherlock, but at least she still had John. And John still had her.

~ ~ A Return Indeed ~ ~

Another report of a dead operative. Alice was getting quite sick of these. An incoming call on her phone snatched her attention from the papers in her hands and she quickly grabbed it up. Looking at the caller ID she lifted the phone to her ear. "Talk." She ordered.

"I have the information you want." It was Moran, and Alice couldn't help but grin at those words. It must have been a manic grin, because the goon that had handed her the paperwork fled.

"Oh?" She prompted when it seemed that Moran wasn't going to say anything more.

"You won't believe me. I'm sending you the pictures." And with that, he hung up. Growling a little in frustration (nobody hangs up on Alice!), Alice went to her computer. Putting in the seven pass-codes (half of which were randomly generated numbers she had memorised), she waited impatiently for the system to warm up.

Sitting down, she opened her email and spent the next twenty minutes simply staring at the screen.

Well...Now she knew. All she had to do was lure him back.

Fingers flying over the keyboard she sent out new orders to all but a few of her men. "Pull back. Slowly. Don't leave a trail. I want you to be a dead end. Radio silence."

'_Well_', she thought as she leaned back in her comfortable chair and once again stared at the screen. '_This__is__beginning__to__get__interesting._'.

~ ~ A Return Indeed ~ ~

Four weeks, three days and seven hours after she had sent him into the field, Sebastian Moran returned. He checked in with the boss, making sure that there were no new orders before retiring to his own, tiny flat.

It hadn't changed one bit since he had left, the room was uncharacteristically tidy. He missed picking up Jim's mess, following the man around as he simply discarded his rubbish over his shoulder had been a pain, but it had also been how everything started.

Moran was no fool. He was under no illusions that Moriarty had felt the same as he did, but the man had tolerated, even eventually welcomed the snipers advances. In the end, Sebastian liked to believe that he had, at the very least, caused the man's ice-encrusted heart to begin to thaw. There had been times, a real smile shared here and there, that Moran had allowed himself to believe, for just a moment, that they were a normal, every day couple.

But now, the realization that they weren't, that Jim had never loved him and was now gone forever, tore him apart. Contrary to popular belief, Moran didn't have a heart of stone. It was simply...guarded. A nigh impenetrable wall surrounded his abused organ, and Jim... well, he had vaulted over top of that wall and stomped on his core.

And Moran loved him for it.

Throwing his jacket haphazardly in the general direction of the broken couch, he sighed and traipsed his way into his bathroom for a much needed bath. His mind whirled from thoughts of his previous boss, to his current one.

How long would it take her to trust him? Even if she never trusted him, one day, she might lower her guard. And that would be the time to strike. As he ran his bath water, he allowed himself to daydream about how he would do it. A gunshot wound to the head would be far too simple. She wouldn't suffer enough. No. That wouldn't be a good enough death to avenge his boss.

A poison would be cliché, but at least there would be some poetry in it. Her death being the same as Jim's.

No. He wanted something more original.

Sinking into the bubble filled water, he closed his eyes, a soft smile on his face as he imagined several different scenarios, each more gruesome than the last.

~ ~ A Return Indeed ~ ~

The next phone call that Alice received was one of good news. Lestrade. He had managed to get permission for both herself and John to work on crime scenes, but they had to follow the rules to the letter, no more running off to chase a suspect, no more hiding evidence or demanding it. It had to be by the book.

Alice had agreed, but wasn't sure exactly how to tell John.

Well...this was as good a opening as any.

Running up the seventeen steps, she barrelled into the living room, an ear splitting grin on her face. It wasn't until she saw John's pained look that she realized that she must look a lot like Sherlock right then. Still, she couldn't let the grin fall. "Put your jacket on!" She ordered, "We've got a case! A serial killer!" Of course, she already knew who the killer was- she'd employed him after all. But John needed this too-he needed to feel alive, to have a reason for living.

And so did Alice. Before, her life had revolved around her mother and her brother. So when Sherlock had 'died', she had lost almost everything worth living for. It had taken her a few days, and two of John's dissociative states for her to realize that she still had something. She still had John. Her life mission was now to take care of John, to make sure that he was always happy, that he had something to live for and that he could survive Sherlock's demise.

Yes. She would live for John now.

At least, until she could get Sherlock to stop killing her men and come home.

~ ~ A Return Indeed ~ ~

AN/  
Sorry for the short chapter. But it seemed a good place to let it fall.

Yay for Moran! I realized that although I'd used him in the past chapters, I hadn't really made a character of him. Not yet, anyway. So when I needed something to break up Alice's scenes, I added him! It seems to have worked... I dunno... What do you think?

In fact, what do you think of the chapter/story as a whole? Comments, criticisms, ideas? I'd love to hear them all.

Though I do kind of feel like Moffat with the way things are heading. I am so mean...

Speaking of Moffat, I may be a little slow to reply for a while since I'm busy with the Moffat Warriors. If you are a fan of Moffat, and I mean, a real fan, not one of those asswipes who send him hate mail, then please, do join us. Either google "Moffat's warriors" or visit our tumblr page (moffats-warrior dot tumblr dot com) and spread the word, join us (we don't have cookies at the moment, but maybe soon).

The next chapter is still a work in progress. It shouldn't be too long.. And sorry for anyone who got confused with the chapter title. No. Sherlock didn't come back in this. Not yet.


	4. Null and Void

AN/  
Another chapter. Hopefully this chapter clears a few things up!  
And Arty Diane, here is your explosion!

The song I listened to while writing this was "Null and Void" by Tattoo.

The Russian Hooker belongs to my fiancé Tris.

~ ~ Null and Void ~ ~

After two months of cases and weekly outings with the Yard, John was faring much better. He still had his episodes, but not as often as he used to, and they never lasted as long any more.

That was, until Lestrade called them in on another case.

It was a damp, drizzly night, thick clouds obscuring the night sky. Stepping out of the cab, Alice pulled her favourite jacket closer to her body, locking herself behind the dark cloth and away from some of the frigid chill. Behind her, she heard John bid the cabbie a good night before the vehicle sped off down the road.

Stepping forward, she kept her pace slow until she felt John's presence at her side, then together they walked forward and ducked under the police tape. Greeted by Lestrade, John stopped short to talk to him and Alice strode forward, completely ignoring the looks on the police officers faces.

Even though it had been a solid two months since they had begun working with the Yard, some officers still found it difficult to believe that Alice was supposed to be there. She did look young, she supposed, definitely younger than her twenty-seven years, but still.. there were many people who joined the force younger than herself.

Most of them, however, didn't carry an almost unique identification card. She and John, after much deliberation, had agreed before demanding their own titles. A new officer stepped in front of her, a hand out in a peaceful gesture for her to stop. With an irritated sigh, she reached into her breast pocket to pull out her identification.

In solid black letters, just below her picture it sated:

"**Alice****Whittle.****Consulting****Detective.****" **

With a suspicious frown, the man checked her ID twice before handing it back and letting her in. "Thank you." She said, "And try flowers. She might forgive you." Ignoring his confused and offended look, she took her place beside the body.

Frowning, she looked down at the body, then up at the warehouse they were outside of. Craning her neck, she looked to the top and worked out the trajectory before returning her attention to the crumpled figure on the floor.

"34 Year old female. Not married. No children. Business woman." Lestrade was saying as he and John approached. "We're trying to determine if it was suicide or murder."

Alice was about to reply to him, when she heard the strangled sound that came from John. He'd seen the body. Turning quickly, she placed her gloved hands on his shoulders, holding them tightly and looking up into his face. She wished she was taller, wider, anything so that she could block the sight from the man before her.

"Butterfly." She shook him a little, trying to get his attention. "Butterfly, look at me." His pupils were wide, his body trembling. "Shit." She mumbled, bodily pushing him away from the woman on the ground. Taking him around the corner, she turned to Lestrade, who had followed them closely, a look of concern and surprise on his face. After a moment, the surprise turned to realization.

"Shit. John. John, it's okay." He didn't know what to say, and neither did Alice. Instead, she just gave Lestrade orders to get him home. It showed how frazzled the DI was that he didn't contest her orders-or point out that _he_ was the one in charge. He simply followed them and gently piled the army doctor into a cab with Donovan.

"What's with him?" Anderson asked, raising himself from beside the body to join them as they returned.

"You really are an idiot." Alice couldn't help herself. She spun on her heel and glared at Lestrade. "How could you call us to a case like this and not warn us!?" She roared, anger literally turning her face red. "What the hell did you expect to happen!?"

"What's going on?"

"Shut the fuck up Anderson!" She didn't even bother turning around to address him. "John watched his _best__friend_, my _brother_ jump to his death! What the fuck did you think would happen when he saw this!?" She vaguely gestured to the dead woman.

Taking a deep breath, she closed her eyes and tried to calm herself. A nerve on her temple twitched and she violently turned to stalk away from the police inspector- who was smart enough to keep his mouth shut at this point. As she neared the body, she looked down at it in disgust. "She was murdered." She told them. "Thrown from the third story window, bound, head first."

She didn't bother to explain how she knew this. The trajectory of the fall, the way the skull fractured on the ground, the position of her arms and feet. It was all obvious really, but she was angry enough that she didn't care to talk more than she had to.

Looking up at the building, she took two steps forward before noticing something. Time seemed to slow down as her eyes widened in horror. The small spark of light emanating from the second story gave way to a much larger one. It moved its way outward, upward, a roaring sound in its wake.

"DOWN!" She yelled, her voice seemingly coming out at half speed.

She turned and launched herself forward, but she wasn't fast enough.

The heat got to her first, the feeling of her skin caressed by the feather-light touch of the flames. It was warm, too warm and she felt like she would melt. Next came the sound. A sound so loud, so horrendous that she was sure the heavens were opening up and devouring the earth whole. The resounding bang was followed by the crackles of both flame and falling wood.

A pain spiked in her side causing every nerve ending to scream in agony even as she felt her self connect with something soft and then something hard and cold. Blessedly cold.

And then there was nothing.

~ ~ Null and Void ~ ~

Blinking her eyes open, Alice wasn't surprised to find nothing but white. Well.. she was surprised a little. Surely she should be burning?

There was burning before, she remembered that. It was hot, consuming, terrifying. Thankfully, there was none of that any more. Her left side was still tingling with the after effects, but she'd been burned often enough to know that the damaging factor was over.

Pain. So...not dead then.

Clear blue eyes blinked a few more times before she moved her head, attempting to figure out exactly where she was. It was easy to deduce that she was in a hospital. Where else would be so nauseatingly white and sterile? There was a sound to her right, muffled and barely audible. It was so quite that she could only tell it was there when she concentrated.

Another sound. This time a deeper rumble. It sounded like she was listening to the television three rooms away. A indeterminable hum.

Then suddenly there was a face above hers. She started a little, jumping back and yelping in agony as her body heavily protested the movement. Forcing her eyes open she looked directly into the worried face of one Doctor John Watson.

His mouth moved, and the muffled sound came again. Was that him talking? Frowning, she shook her head a little and tried to speak. Her throat was raw, painful to say the least but she was sure she had whispered something. Surely even in this state she could communicate. "Can't hear you." She tried again, forcing the words past her cracked lips.

Even her own words, which she was sure she had invariably shouted, sounded like nothing but a far off mumble.

Okay, now she was starting to panic. She could see that John could see that in her face. His hand slowly began to stroke her hair-on the right side of her face. He spoke slowly and loudly, yet Alice still couldn't understand the sounds that he emitted.

But she could read his lips. '_It's__going__to__be__okay.'_. If only she could believe him.

~ ~ Null and Void ~ ~

It took them a while to find a way to communicate effectively. First they tried using a pen and paper, but it simply hurt too much for her to move enough to write. Eventually, they turned to her reading lips, which was slow and clumsy, and her simply forcing a few words here and there past her lips.

She was burned, surprisingly not too badly, down her left side. Two of her left ribs were broken, a further three were cracked. Luckily none had gone through into her lungs or heart but the doctors still wanted to keep her around for observation.

Her left wrist was heavily sprained and her ankle was twisted. But aside from those, and a few scratches and bruises here and there, she was lucky as far as injury goes.

Lestrade had come in for a statement, which was hard to give, but she gave it anyway. He slowly told her what had happened. The dead woman at the warehouse had been a reporter investigating the rumour of a gang stronghold in the warehouse.

"_Idiot._" Alice had managed to get out at that point, earning a solemn nod from Lestrade.

The rumours were correct- but incomplete. The group had been using the abandoned building as a base for building their bombs. The reporter had been found and the group panicked, not sure how to deal with her. So they had opted for the simple solution of throwing her out of a window.

Unfortunately for them, they had chosen the perfect time to do so- as a security guard was walking home past their building. He'd been the one who had put in the call.

There hadn't been enough time for the gang members to leave so they had done the next best thing- attempted to take the cops down with them.

Unfortunately for them, Alice had been the only one injured.

She hadn't been able to help Lestrade much on this case, she hadn't seen anything that they hadn't already noticed. So she was left to rest and to recuperate.

~ ~ Null and Void ~ ~

It took less than two days for the nursing staff to get sick of Alice. From her constant glaring to her all out refusal of food (her throat hurt!). Then, as she started to slowly regain her hearing and voice, she became worse. Demanding that the television be turned up loud enough for her to hear, regardless of the fact that it was two am, demanding ice-cream to sooth her throat, and basically making a nuisance of herself.

As soon as she allowed visitors (she didn't want anybody to be around before she could more or less hear them and speak to them in return), she was rewarded with a few at once.

John was there, and it was obvious by the look on his face that he felt at least somewhat responsible for her injuries. She made a mental note to confront him about that later. Preferably after Mycroft left.

She simply glared at her older brother, not enjoying the fact that he was there at all. "Have you come to bail me out?" She asked, her voice still low and raspy. She had come to call her current voice her "Russian hooker voice" because of it's depth.

He chuckled, a fake, put upon chuckle, and shook his head. Leaning his ever-present umbrella against the wall, he took a seat causing Alice to groan. If he was sitting down, he wasn't planning on leaving any time soon. Seemingly following Mycroft's example, John sat on her other side. Great. Now they'd surrounded her.

At least Anderson hadn't shown up.

"How are you feeling?" She almost missed Mycroft's words, they were at a normal volume and her hearing hadn't returned fully. She was more than half tempted to ignore him completely, but then John repeated the question louder, motioning to his ears for Mycrof's benefit.

Sighing, she attempted to shrug without aggravating her left side. It failed. Miserably. Wincing she sighed again. "I hurt. All over. Especially my left side." She paused to swallow and cough, "My throat aches and I can't hear. To top it all off, I sound like a Russian hooker."

"A...Russian hooker?" Mycroft looked confused. John simply looked amused.

A wiry smile was placed on her lips and she lifted her right hand, gesturing to Mycroft as if she was asking for money. "Nice time? Two dollar. Cheap cheap." she uttered in her low rumbles, winking at Mycroft.

That, at least, had John trying very hard not to giggle like a school girl. Mycroft looked faintly disturbed and Alice almost expected him to produce flash cards as to what a Russian hooker actually looked like in comparison to her. He used to love his flash cards.

Mycroft sighed softly and shook his head, a rueful smile on his features. "It seems then," He said, a little louder than he normally would, "That you are beginning to feel better. Should I bring for you lunch tomorrow? It is, after all, our usual day."

To say that Alice nodded eagerly would be an understatement. One could deal with hospital foods for only so long.

It wasn't long after that that both Mycroft and John left with the promise that they would be back the next day.

~ ~ Null and Void ~ ~

It took a total of three days for Moran to visit her. She had been wondering if he would come. Her mobile had been taken from her on her first day when she'd thrown it at a nurse, and she was promised that she would get it back when she was feeling (and acting) better.

So when Moran came to her, it was a little bit of a surprise. Well...he was her second in command, she supposed. He would have heard of the explosion, and it wouldn't have taken him long to put two and two together and find out where she was.

He had been shown into her room, and flashed her a massive grin followed by a concerned look as he slid into the seat to her right and took her hand. "Sweetie, how are you feeling!?" He asked, louder than necessary (especially now that her hearing had mostly returned).

What was he- ah. The nurse looked at him with a soft smile before excusing herself and closing the door behind her. As soon as she was gone, Moran pulled his hand back and leaned back in the chair. He made a motion, asking if the room was bugged.

Alice knew that it wasn't (as soon as Mycroft had left she had demanded that the nurse check every inch of the space that he had occupied) so she shook her head and he nodded.

"What went wrong, boss?" He asked, eyeing up her injuries.

"Nothing at all." She told him with a smile. "And don't call me that around here. You never know who's around." He nodded once. "Good. So, playing the boyfriend to get in?" She asked, a smirk on her face.

He simply shrugged, "Seemed the easiest way."

"Hnn. Well. While you're here, might as well make yourself useful. I need you to take over for a while. There's no way that John's going to let me out of his sight for a while and I can't be contacted. Most of my agents are underground. For the most part, they don't even know that I've taken over. Half still believe that they're taking orders from Moriarty, the other are aware that they are taking orders from the Red Queen." She'd been slowly accustoming her men to responding to the Red Queen, one at a time, slowly. Any that didn't accept the change simply disappeared.

"Take the phone in the office. Use that and the initials RQ to reply to anything. I trust in your discretion. The man that you were following, Sherlock Holmes, must not be touched. Under any circumstances. I have my own plans for him."

He nodded again, understanding and acquiesce in a single, simple gesture.

"I expect a full report when I return."

"When will that be?" he asked.

"I am unsure." That was the best answer that she could give him at that point. She had to remain in John's care until he believed that she was fully recovered. She couldn't leave or John was sure to have Mycroft follow her.

"Now go. I have a lunch appointment."

And with that, Sebastian Moran once more disappeared.

~ ~ Null and Void ~ ~

AN/  
Sorry to anybody who was upset during this chapter. I felt really mean for hurting Alice. But it all went according to plan, so there had to be a good reason behind it, right?

Anyway, I'm thankful for you all for following this story this far.

Sherlock isn't far off returning! It's taking longer than I expected and I'm sorry for that. I do hope, however, that this chapter answered a couple of questions. There were more, a few anon comments let me know that, but they will come in time.

Please do keep the comments coming. I don't always realize that things aren't as obvious to others as they are to me, and sometimes if I miss something out I don't realize until someone points it out to me.

And one more apology. Sorry for the delay in the chapter. Not sure how long the next one will take. It's sort of been... hard this last few weeks. Lots of things happening.

This chapter is dedicated to my good friend Rob, who died during my writing of this chapter. We'll miss you Rob.


	5. A Thousand Years

AN:

The song I used for this one was "A Thousand Years" by Christina Perri

~ ~ A Thousand Years ~ ~

Drizzle fell from the sky, it's cold fingertips grazing her reddened skin as she awkwardly pulled her dark coat closer to herself. Bright blue eyes rose gently to the darkened sky and her lids fluttered shut as she simply allowed herself to be.

Letting go of emotions, allowing them to be washed away with the drops of rain, she relaxed. Then, the rain suddenly stopped, her eyes flashed open and she was rewarded with the dark material of an umbrella above her.

"Hello, Myc." Alice said quietly, her voice still low (the doctors had told her she had permanent damage to her vocal chords due to the few burns on her neck).

"Alice." Mycroft greeted her, his arm looping through hers to walk with her, leading her deeper into the cemetery.

John was already there, stood under the dripping sky, a shaky hand reached towards the black stone protruding from the sodden earth. It had been twelve months to the day since Sherlock had jumped. Since everything that had happened to their small family, and now, together they stood. Three people still facing the death of one of their own.

~ ~ A Thousand Years ~ ~

Alice didn't go straight home – she ignored Mycroft's offers of a ride home and walked slowly to one of her favourite places in the world.

The playground was small, as they usually were in London city. A swing, a slide, and a small roundabout. Due to the rain, and the time, there weren't any children around, for which Alice was glad. She'd been coming out here in the sixteen months that she'd been living in London, it was a quiet place, surrounded by trees and hiding the bustle of the city.

She found it peaceful.

Sitting on the roundabout, she pulled a cigarette from her pocket and lit up, taking a deep, relaxing drag and closing her eyes.

Even though she knew- she _knew_ that Sherlock wasn't dead, today was still hard for her. He may not be dead, but he wasn't there with them either. The raw pain on John's face, the quiet depression from Mycroft... The feelings had overcome her.

Now, she simply needed to calm down.

The roundabout moved as somebody climbed on behind her. Wordlessly, she handed a cigarette and the lighter back. She heard the lighter and a deep breath.

"You're supposed to be dead." She said eventually, accepting the lighter back and slipping it into her pocket.

"You were supposed to be injured." He countered, sending her heart rate up. The familiar tenor of the voice continued, and she pushed down the almost overwhelming urge to turn and wrap her arms around the man, to hold him close and never let go.

"Well," She continued, "You're not. But I am." She said quietly. There was silence, broken only by the sounds of harsh breaths around cigarettes. "Are you...coming home?" She asked quietly.

The roundabout moved again as the man stood and walked away, leaving her without an answer.

~ ~ A Thousand Years ~ ~

It took her a while to make her way home. Her legs shook, her mind shut down... She was starting to go into shock and she knew it. A part of her wanted to keep away from home, to let this pass, but then she remembered the first time she'd met John. She'd fallen into shock back then, and John had helped her through it.

She could only hope that John wasn't in one of his own 'bad days'. She needed him right then.

Hearing her brother, feeling his unmistakeable presence behind her after twelve whole months...it was hard.

The door opened easily under her fingers and she barely registered the fact that she was climbing the seventeen steps to their flat. "J-John?" Her voice trembled, her hands trembled, her legs...

John managed to catch her before they gave away completely. "Where were you!?" His voice was loud enough to cause her to flinch, worried and helpless. "Mycroft sent a car out to look for you!" He really did sound distressed but Alice wasn't really listening. She was leaning her weight upon him and he was slowly helping her get to the couch.

Dimly, she was aware of him taking her soaked clothing off and bundling her up in warm towels, manoeuvring her gently into the chair closest to the hearth in an attempt to warm her up. A cup of tea was shoved into her hands and she jumped, startled. Blinking a few times, she looked up at John, a soft, thankful smile on her face.

His expression was one of understanding. He seemed to be assuming that she was upset because of the date, that it had taken it's toll on her. It was- after all, only four months after the anniversary of her parents deaths.

She couldn't tell him the truth. She just...couldn't.

~ ~ A Thousand Years ~ ~

"There's a report waiting for you." Moran slid onto the bench beside her, turning his head to look at her. "Holmes." He added.

She froze, a cigarette half way to her mouth as she stared ahead. Letting her arm drop, she took a breath and sighed. Why would he use that name? Why would he call her that? It was unmistakeable, he was using that name to rattle her. But why?

"Excuse me?" She flicked the building ash from her cigarette and turned to look at her second in command.

"It's your name, isn't it? The younger sister of Sherlock Holmes. No wonder you didn't want me to hurt him." Moran pulled his own cigarette from his pocket, lighting up and leaning back on the bench. To the outside observer, they simply looked like a pair of smokers enjoying the first sun of the season.

"It's not my name." She told him. Moran was a trained marine. He knew when somebody lied to him, so it was best to keep to the truth, ignore the information she didn't want to give to him.

Over a year of living with John had taught her how to manipulate a soldier.

A lifetime living with a Holmes had taught her how to easily lie.

"It's never been my name." She added for good measure.

The deflection didn't seem to work. "But you are his sister." It wasn't a question and Alice knew that Moran was sure. So she simply nodded once.

"I see." He said. "This could pose a problem." He spread his arms behind her, leaning closer to her as he took another puff- giving the impression of casual lovers. "Holmes is the enemy."

"Only for as long as he poses a threat." Alice played along, leaning towards the man, flicking the bud of her cigarette out into the park. "I'm bringing him home, so that I can watch him."

"He's already in London."

"I am aware."

Moran nodded, seemingly trusting her. Alice wasn't fooled for a moment, and she moved a little, nuzzling a little closer. If she slept with him, he would believe himself superior-think himself able to better manipulate her. "Do you remember our discussion when you were hired? I told you that I would replace Mister Moriarty completely..." She allowed her head to raise, to nuzzle into Moran's neck.

"Hmm..." The pulse point under her lips jumped. Oh, he was interested.

"Come with me." She stood, taking Moran by the hand and leading him away from the park.

~ ~ A Thousand Years ~ ~

'**Come to my office. Mutual aquatence looking for you. -MH'**

The text came out just before lunch. It was odd that Mycroft would text, especially when they were scheduled to meet in less than half an hour anyway. With a frown and a sigh, Alice slipped her longcoat on and made her way down the stairs, a final glance cast at her catatonic room-mate on the way out.

**'On my way** -**AW'** She sent in return.

The office wasn't far away, and Mycroft had long since given up on sending cars to her. The walk took only twenty minutes, even with the stop to get coffee. She arrived just before noon and let herself in-waving at Mycroft's men as she did so.

Upon entering the office, she noticed who the 'mutual acquaintance' was.

Sherlock stood behind their brother's desk, staring out of the window towards the city he had abandoned so many months ago. His hair was shorter, and _ginger_ of all colours, but it was unmistakeably him.

She took two steps into the room before collapsing onto a chair. It was one thing to see pictures, or to hear his voice, but to see that he was there, that he was alive and in one piece... It was still a bit of a shock. "Sherlock." She greeted, her recently deepened voice catching in her throat.

The man turned, his eyes (green today) latched onto hers and he smiled softly. "Alice." He said, "I'm glad you're alright." There was actual relief in his voice, enough that she knew he wasn't faking it.

"Likewise... I suppose this means that you're ready to come home?" She didn't ask how, or why or any of the other hundreds of questions that had occurred to her in the last twelve months. She didn't want to know. Not really. Hearing his excuses, hearing his thought process...it would make it all too real.

Sherlock nodded once, but it was Mycroft who spoke. His presence had been largely ignored (as it usually was when all three were in a room) up until this point. "I have begun the paperwork to restore his 'living' status." He said.

He was sitting behind his desk, shuffling papers and showing every indication of being busy. Which usually meant that he wasn't, but his brain was working overtime.

Alice nodded and stood, dropping her coffee into the bin and offering her hand to Sherlock. The youngest brother took it and quickly pulled Alice close. At first, she thought that he might hug her, but when he stopped her movement before doing so, she realized that he was looking over the burns still visible on her neck and chin.

"Explosion." She muttered, "at a crime scene."

Her explanation caused Sherlock to raise an eyebrow at her, a clear indication that she should continue with her narrative.

Instead of talking (which was still sometimes painful) she reached into her pocket with her free hand and pulled out a buisness card.

'**Alice Whittle **

**Doctor John H. Watson**

**Consulting Detectives'**

He stared at the card, taking it from her with a shaking hand and an almost unreadable look upon his face. His eyes lay steady on the small paper and he swallowed. "You're working with Lestrade?" He asked after a moment in a quiet, unsure voice.

Working her hand free from his Alice nodded once and stood up straight. "Officially, this time." She said, "We're not you. But we make do. The police really are idiots, after all. They need all the help they can get. Especially when Andy's on a scene."

Sherlock didn't comment on Alice's use of Anderson's first name, but did put the card in his pocket, a small, proud smile on his face.

"Well. Shall we?" He asked, gesturing towards the door. Alice took his arm and lead him away, neither sibling even acknowledging Mycroft's presence.

~ ~ A Thousand Years ~ ~

AN:  
I feel kind of sorry for Mycroft. Especially as I know where this is going. He's doing everything he knows how for his siblings, and it's clear as day that they both would prefer each others company to his. After everything he's tried to do for them, they both still dislike him.

And yay! Sherlock is back~! Sorry, couldn't help but put ginger!batch in here... I think his ginger hair really suits him xD


End file.
